Deck the Halls with Pain & Glory
by Nirianne
Summary: Bryan bakes a cake.


Spencer facepalmed so hard it his hand left a definite print on his face. The large teen wanted to unleash a deafening primal scream from the depths of his lungs at the sight of the red, green, and hideous, piss-colored gold tint decorations. On the same note, he also wanted to bawl his eyes out at mud prints patterned across the house. There was even mud on the furniture! The furniture _he_ painstakingly polished yesterday for three hours straight! HOW?! Spencer stepped forward, eyes laser-focused on cheap plastic garlands looped around tables, chairs, and everything it touched.

Spencer glanced up and saw round ornaments dangled from the expensive chandelier. His eyes traced the round ornaments that were cheaply painted and hooked with dingy Christmas lights some idiot salvaged from the dollar store! He visibly cringed. There was only one idiot in this household who was capable of such crimes. He pushed up the sleeves of his sweater and b-lined to the kitchen—his sanctuary—away from the mess. If anyone was stupid enough to decorate the kitchen, they're going to wear stone boots in no time.

"Yo! Spencer!"

His jaw dropped at the sight of the glitter-covered floor. At the far end of the kitchen was Bryan wrapped in a bright red and white apron, beating eggs in a bowl. Spencer's eyes locked onto the whisk with eggs smeared all over it. The bottom of the ceramic bowl had spider cracks. Spencer wanted to cry. That was his favorite bowl his fanclub gave him last year!

Tick, tock, it's time to unleash the beast.

" **Kuznetsov!** " Spencer bellowed from the depths of his lungs.

"Eyyy! Big man! Sorry, big guy! I'm busy!"

Spencer wanted to tear Bryan limb from limb before shoving his limbs down his throat and up his tight ass. "What in the fresh _hell_ are you doing in _my_ kitchen?!"

"Whoa, whoa! You don't have to get aggressive, Spencer buddy! I'm going to throw a Christmas party. Plus, I'm going to bake a cake for everyone hence my superb egg beating skills!"

Tick, tock, tick, tock. Spencer envisioned his kitchen up in flames. He _stared_ at Bryan. The moron was going to bake a cake. _Bryan_ was going to bake a cake! No, he would _not_ allow it!

The large teen swallowed a ball of spit. "Why don't you order one? There are lots of baking—"

" **No!** " Bryan shouted like a five-year-old. The teen made an 'O' shape with his mouth, identical to Seaborg, Spencer's tri-colored goldfish. "I want to do this! Really! I want to do this from the bottom of my heart."

Spencer wanted to throw a fridge at Bryan right about now. He cleared his throat. "Look, I know you mean well but—"

"No buts!" Bryan raised the whisk into the air. Beaten egg oozed onto the floor. "I want to show you guys my appreciation for everything! I've already planned out everything down to the last bread crumb."

"You mean detail."

"Yes! Detail. That's the word!"

He wanted to facepalm himself, again. His eyes locked onto the mess across the floor and kitchen counter. It was a warzone. There was a dozen destroyed egg shells, a torn box of flour, a melted block of butter, a torn bag of sugar, salt, and three cracked bottles of vanilla extract. The poor cocoa powder also decorated the kitchen floor. It looked like dirt. His poor kitchen.

From behind, Ian entered the kitchen.

"Wow." he said. "What on earth…?"

The small teen didn't continue once he felt Spencer's broken Zen. Spencer, despite being the calm and level-headed one, once he's angered, you could literally _feel_ his death (metal) aura. He gave off volcanic vibes.

"Ian, where's Tala?" Spencer asked.

"He went Christmas shopping before sunrise." Ian replied with hands behind his head.

Bryan slammed the bowl onto the counter. More spider cracks formed. Spencer's heart almost gave out. "Oh, oh, oh! I know why he hates Christmas!"

A devilish smirk appeared across Ian's lips. "Yeah, we all do."

Bryan whimsically dunked the beaten eggs into a bowl packed to the rim with flour. Next, he grabbed a handful of sugar and salt and threw it in. His eyes scanned the terrain for the elusive vanilla extract bottle. One that was preferably intact, thank you very much. Locating it, he dumped every single drop of it into the semi-overflowing bowl. Didn't nobody tell him two to three drops was enough? No. Bryan gleefully threw in a fistful of cinnamon before he mixed using a decade's old spatula.

"Man, that was some crazy shit we all went through that day." Bryan reminisced, remembering the exact moment his brilliant idea bloomed into fruition. He was a proud boy.

"Yeah," Ian added. "I can't believe our fanclub stalked us the moment we entered the mall."

Spencer shook his head. He had pushed that awful memory to the back of his mind and now they're fishing it back up. Ugh. "I can't believe your dumb idea got us out of that mess."

"Oh! It was a glorious idea!" Bryan laughed, damn proud of himself. "Dressing up in drag was the best idea I ever had!"

Ian crossed his arms. "I was surprised you knew how to apply makeup. Like, that black stuff girls draw around their eyes? What was it? Black charcoal?" Charcoal pencil?"

"Maybelline Liquid liner." Bryan confidently corrected.

Bryan was dead pleased with himself. His quick thinking saved the boys from their rabid fanbase who were committed to stripping them bare and auctioning their stuff off on eBay. They each _literally_ wanted a piece of the boys. Russian fans were an erratic bunch. As Bryan was once in this predicament, he knew what to do. The teen managed to convince the other three to follow this plan. By the end of it, each exited the mall unscathed. The only downside was each teen was coated in thick, heavy layers of foundation, makeup, eyeliner, lipstick; the works. The best part of all? They each wore ridiculous wigs that somehow fooled _everyone_! The eyeliner accentuated Tala's death glare oh so well!

The mauve-haired teen believed he deserved a trophy. He couldn't believe the makeup department was so cooperative!

"Since then Tala always went shopping at the crack of dawn to avoid the fans." Ian concluded, tucking away his AirPods. "I understand his pain, though. Being famous and all."

"And that's why I want to bake this cake!" Bryan gleefully exclaimed. "I want to personally thank him and you guys for being awesome and sticking with me!"

Spencer facepalmed. He gave up. Bryan slammed the bowl back onto the counter. Spencer cringed. The jubilant teen pushed his teammates out of the kitchen.

"I would like to work in peace now, gentleman. I'll call you when it's done!"

With that said, Bryan slammed and barricaded the door with a chair. Ian looked at the doors wordlessly.

He turned to Spencer. "Well, let's hope for the best, yeah?"

"I hope so, Ian. I hope so."

Bryan continued working on his mixture and waltzed to the oven. According to the cook book, it said to preheat the oven for twenty minutes at one hundred and twenty degrees. The teen frowned.

"Bah! Who has time for preheating nonsense?! I could just crank it up once it's ready!"

The confident teen tossed the cook book into the non-recycling bin and continued mixing. He forgot to read the part if he mixed it too much, the batter wouldn't rise. After ten minutes of heavy mixing, Bryan poured in the thick, gooey liquid into the mold. He felt like a genius! The boy carefully tapped the edges of the mold to get rid of the bubbles. Seeing that didn't work in his favor, Bryan slammed the mold onto the counter again and again. Chocolate droplets exploded everywhere, including his hands.

Bryan licked the chocolate off his fingers. His eyes twinkled in delight. " **YOOO, I'M THE BEST!** "

The teen waltzed to the oven and threw in the gooey cake. Now, it was time to set the temperature. Shrugging, he cranked the heat up to two hundred and sixty degrees and hoped for the best!

"That should cut baking time by half!" he happily exclaimed. "I can't wait for this baby to rise! **RISE BABY, RISE!** "

* * *

Two hours later, Tala came home to two, oh wait, three fire trucks parked in front of his driveway. His jaw dropped on the snow-covered ground watching fire dance across his beloved mansion. Tala's violet eyes skipped to the front of the house and spotted Bryan, Spencer, and Ian. He made a mad dash to the trio. Upon reaching them, he saw Bryan cradling a rock or something.

" **What in the hell happened here?!** " Tala exploded.

Bryan shrunk to the size of a newborn falcon chick.

Spencer massaged the bridge of his nose. "Bryan wanted to bake a cake and throw a party for us. He forgot to preheat the oven and cranked the temperature as high as he could, thinking it'll bake faster."

"Bryan left the oven unattended. He didn't realize it was burning and well, by the time we knew it, half the mansion was on fire." Ian added.

Before Tala spoke, Bryan shoved the rock—erm, cake—in his face. "Merry Christmas!"

Tala blinked. Spencer blinked. Ian's jaw dropped.

Bryan smiled. It wasn't a wicked mug either. It was a pure, innocent, puppy smile. "I baked everyone a cake! Well, it's a rock now. I tried to make an awesome chocolate-flavored cake and I messed up!"

"He tried." Spencer piped up. "He really tried."

Tala heard parts of the mansion crumble. He didn't know what else to say or do. He sighed. "At least you're unharmed. That's what matters."

The redhead glared at the rock that was once a cake in its past life. Truthfully, he was impressed by the sheer fact Bryan of all people decided to play _nice_. Perhaps, it's the Christmas bug. Yeah, that might be it. Oh well.

"Next time I think I'll follow the instructions." Bryan said sheepishly. "Maybe next time we can actually dig into my glorious masterpiece!"

Tala had to smile. What a dork. "Please?"

"I'll help out," Spencer offered. "I'll make damn sure he follows each step."

"Hey! I want to help too!" Ian shouted.

Tala shook his head. "You're all horrible. Especially you, Bryan."

Snow started to fall, and the firetrucks left the driveway one by one, leaving the boys to their devices. Bryan looked at the half-burnt mansion.

"Well, at least I didn't burn the entire house down!"

Thanks Bryan, for stating the obvious.

"I'd cry if you did that…" Ian sulked. He could already see it. Their beautiful mansion gone with the wind. So, did Spencer, it seemed.

"Let's head to a restaurant," The tall teen suggested. "I'm starving."

"Cake, anyone?" Bryan suggested with an asshole grin stitched to his face.

"Sure, I guess. I want Black Forest cake!" Ian said.

The redhead took one more glance at the mansion and gestured the other three to follow. "Yeah, let's go. Standing around here won't be good for any of us. At least the insurance covers it."

"Whoo-hoooo!" Bryan cheered, and fist pumped the air.

The mauve-haired teen looped his arms between Tala and Spencer. Ian jogged behind.

"Merry Christmas, guys! It's always good to spend it with friends!" Bryan laughed.

The other three nodded. As the boys parted ways from their humble abode, the burnt half of the mansion collapsed. Tala cringed.

"Turn that frown upside down now, Tallie-puppy." Bryan pinched Tala's cheeks. "Tis the season to be jolly! Fa la la la la… La la la—"

Suddenly, the other half of the mansion collapsed into a pile of burned rubble. All three teens turned to Bryan. Everyone twitched.

"Um… Merry… Christmas…? I wuv you all…?"

And that was the last time anyone heard or saw Bryan Kuznetsov ever again.

The End…?


End file.
